


The Worst Part

by ithinktoomuch4438



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s12e02 Mamma Mia, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape Recovery, SAM AND TONI ARE NOT ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WHATSOEVER, Seriously guys don't read if this triggers you, THE ONLY MENTIONS OF THEM TOGETHER IS IN RELATION TO SAM'S TORTURE, THIS IS NOT A SAM/TONI FIC, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinktoomuch4438/pseuds/ithinktoomuch4438
Summary: Come was still drying in his jeans.That was the worst part.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So, while there were many parts I liked about this past episode, I do really wish they would have showed even a little bit of the brothers reunion and Sam dealing with the aftermath of his torture instead of just brushing it aside. That said, this is my personal take on what happened off screen, and how Sam and Dean dealt with the aftermath of what Sam had been through. Like I said in the tags, this is a Sam/Dean fic, not a Sam/Toni fic. I highkey hate that bitch for hurting Sam. The only mentions of her are in Sam's thoughts as he is reflecting on what happened to him.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: For those who ignored the multiple tags, this fic deals with the aftermath of rape and torture, and includes description of a panic attack. DO NOT READ THIS IF THAT TRIGGERS YOU. You've been warned. 
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. All rights belong to Kripke and The CW.

Come was still drying in his jeans. 

That was the worst part of it all, Sam thought. He could deal with the physical pain, had suffered through things a thousand times worse. Besides, Cas healed him up just fine, made it so not even a scar was left on his body. He could even deal with the fact that he'd talked to the British bitch. His subconscious must have realized something was wrong before he did, because he didn't even tell Toni anything all that reveling. Only that American hunters were rugged, world weary souls who usually fell into the life due to some twisted need for revenge. That they drank too much, fought often, and even when they tried their damn best to clear the world of evil, most of them died young and bloody, killed by the monsters they hunted. 

No, the fact that he talked wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that, once again, someone had used sex as a weapon against him, to manipulate him. And he'd enjoyed it. Again. 

Dean, thankfully, didn't question the stains on his jeans when he'd first seen him in that cellar, and by the time Mary showed up...well, Sam had been a bit too distracted to worry about how filthy he was. But now that he was sitting shotgun in the impala, a blanket draped over him and the heat blasting to dry out his soaked clothes, the discomfort of crusted semen drying in his underwear was nearly unbearable. He squirmed in his seat constantly, and though he caught Dean throwing him sideways glances every few minutes, neither of them spoke. They would talk later, when Sam had scrubbed the stench from his skin and was back in his own clothes in his own room in his own home, safe. 

Pulling into the garage of the bunker, Sam had never felt so relieved. Despite the recent invasions from Lucifer, the bunker had stood strong, hadn't crumbled to pieces around him like the house in Lawrence, or his apartment in Palo Alto, or Bobby's place in Sioux Falls. Yeah, Toni's breaking and entering routine had shaken him a bit, but she was a human. Change the locks and add a few deadbolts to the doors, and she wasn't ever getting in again. 

Sam climbed out of the Impala on shaky legs, and was suddenly reminded of Mary. His mother was here, alive after thirty three years. He was afraid to blink, terrified that she'd vanish from his view like her image had years ago when he was lonely and afraid and strung out on demon blood. Mary seemed to understand his hesitation to leave her, though, and she smiled bright and beautiful at him. 

“How about you go get cleaned up?” She suggested, voice melodic and gentle. “I'll still be here when you get back.”

Sam blushed, nodding jerkily and turning towards the door, eager to get clean. Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he passed and gave him a knowing look, one that promised they'd have a proper reunion later. 

The Men of Letters shower room was large and open, with shower heads positioned every few feet and separated only by a tiled half wall, allowing a sense of modesty and privacy without any pressing claustrophobia. Sam stripped quickly out of his ruined clothes, throwing the t-shirt and jeans into the trash without a second look. He stepped under the steaming spray with a sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward to let the water wash over his head. 

Ruby. Lucifer. Toni. They'd all used sex against him, found a way to make him want it, beg for it, no matter how much he hated them. Others had tried in the past, to use sex as a weapon, a way to lure him in. They'd tried it with Dean, too, though his brother had never given in like he had. Sam remembered Ruby's soft skin, her voice soft and encouraging as he kissed her, fucked her into the mattress out of rage and frustration. She'd used that same voice after, when she opened a vein and let him drink. He always fucked her again, afterward, trying to take out the shame and guilt of what he'd done on her. He remembered Lucifer, the way he'd put on Jess's face and ride him tortuously slow, make him weep with pleasure and come again and again until he couldn't take another touch and his soul cried out for reprieve. The worst, though, was when the archangel put on Dean's face, fucked him hard and slow while he whispered every insecure thought Sam's ever had in his ear. 

And now this. Toni had drugged him, put him under a spell to make him think he lusted her, loved her, even. At least the times before, with the demon and the archangel, he knew love had nothing to do with it. He knew upfront that it was manipulation, torture, a tool to make him compliant. This time, he thought it was real. He made love with his tormentor, and he fucking liked it. 

Sam cursed, ripping his head out from under the spray and ratcheting the water hotter. He grabbed the soap from the shelf and scrubbed over his skin, scrapping away at the blood and sweat and piss and jizz that he'd been sitting in for days. He finally stopped when his skin turned raw and pinpricks of blood started forming on his thighs, beneath the dark hair surrounding his cock. Sam turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, toweling off vigorously and dressing in fresh clothes he'd grabbed from his room. 

He still didn't feel clean. 

Hours later, after a filling, greasy dinner and a much needed talk with his mother, Sam laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. There was so much Mary didn't know about him, so much for her to be disappointed in. Would she reject him as a son when she found out that he'd willingly drank demon blood? Let the devil himself possess him? Nearly ended the world on multiple occasions? He wasn't the son she deserved, and yet as he thought back to the way she'd hugged him, he couldn't deny how badly he wanted her, needed her. 

His doorknob clicked softly as his door was pushed open, and Sam sat up quickly in surprise, reaching for his gun before he could blink. 

“Woah, there, tiger,” Dean said, tossing Sam a teasing smile and holding up his hands in a defensive posture. “Its just me.”

Sam huffed, nodding his head and tucking his gun back under his pillow. “Right. Sorry. Just a...a little jumpy, I guess.”

Dean frowned, glancing down at the floor for a moment before returning his eyes to Sam. “I get it. That lady really fucked you up.” He pushed the door shut and moved further into the room, stopping at the foot of Sam's bed. “You wanna talk about it?”

Sam met his brother's eyes, sucking in a deep, unsteady breath. “I uh...I don't know.” He answered honestly. 

Dean nodded, gesturing to the bed and raising an eyebrow, a silent request to sit. Sam nodded, leaning back against his headboard as Dean settled near his feet. “I know she shot you, in the leg.” He said, nodding towards Sam's left thigh, which he'd been favoring unconsciously all night. “Saw your foot was bandaged when I first came in. How'd that happen?”

Sam picked at a hangnail, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. “Blowtorch. Her partner, Ms. Watt, I think, did it.”

Dean smirked. “She's dead.” He said smugly. Sam's head shot up, eyes wide with surprise. 

“You?” He asked. Dean shook his head. 

“Mom. Shoved an angel blade right through her chest. Bitch never saw it coming.” 

Sam's mouth dropped open, and he breathed out a soft chuckle. “Wow. Good. That's...” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” 

Dean smiled. “Don't thank me. I just helped hide the body. Besides, she hurt you.” He reached out, squeezing Sam's stocking foot gently. “Not to mention she hit Baby. It's gonna take me ages to fix that panel.” 

Sam nearly giggled. “I saw that. Wondered why you weren't cursing the air blue about it.” Dean laughed. 

“You should have seen me on the ride to get you. I think I made mom blush with some of the shit I said.” Dean chuckled for a moment longer, then his smile faded, and he rubbed his hand soothingly over Sam's now healed foot. “What else did they do to you?”

Sam shivered, shrugging and dropping his gaze back down to his lap. “Doused me in cold water. Knocked me around with those brass knuckles. Shocked me with a cattle prod. Sliced me up a bit.” He toyed with a loose thread on his jeans. “They drugged me a couple times.”

Dean frowned at that, brows twisting together. “What'd they get you with?” He asked. 

“The first one was some hallucinogen, something that made me relive all the bad shit we've been through. It was pretty weak, though. I could see through the smoke screen, kind of. Enough to make an escape attempt. It failed though, obviously.” Sam gave Dean a half smile, one that didn't come close to reaching his eyes. 

“And the second one?” Dean prodded. Sam stiffened, drawing his knees up close to his chest and resting his arms on the tops of them, hiding his face in his lap. Dean sighed, but didn't move to touch Sam again, knowing it wouldn't end well. “What'd they do to you, little brother?”

Sam shook his head, throat closing up even as his breaths came faster because oh god, he was back in that room again. He was back in that room and Toni's condescending voice was in his ear, “Was it good for you, Sam?” And suddenly he could feel the come cooling in his underwear and fuck that wasn't just a dream, she'd watched him moan for her and writhe for her and come for her, cream his pants like a teenager while she pushed just the right buttons and got the information she wanted despite all his resisting and shit why can't he breathe why can't he breathe why can't he breathe-

“Sammy!” Sam jolted at the shake to his shoulders, looking up and finding wide green eyes and a forehead creased with worry lines, no long blonde hair and smug features in sight, just Dean, his Dean. He looked around the room, his room, his breathing slowly returning to normal as the feeling of home settled in his veins. His gaze returned to Deans and he nodded slowly, letting his brother know he was okay. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry, just...just lost touch with where I was for a second....” Sam sank back against the headboard, slid down until he was lying on his side. Dean hesitated for a moment, then stood and turned out the lights before crawling onto the bed to lie next to Sam. He kept his distance, careful not to touch Sam, merely laying next to him to offer him comfort without asking for more. 

“You don't need to apologize for anything, Sammy.” Dean soothed softly. “Whatever they did to you, it wasn't your fault. Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault.” 

Sam felt wetness on his cheeks, and it took him a moment to realize he was crying. “She, Toni, she....” He swallowed thickly, voice cracking. “She put me under this...this spell. I don't know what it was, but it was powerful. It put me in some...alternate reality dreamscape. I thought....” He stopped suddenly, breath hitching as he held back a sob. 

“Shhh, Sammy, shh...” Dean murmured, reaching out slowly and taking Sam's hand. He intertwined their fingers gently, then rubbed his thumb in firm circles over the scar across Sam's palm. “Take you're time. Just breathe for me, alright?”

Sam nodded, closing his eyes and focusing on Deans touch on his hand, on the twinge of pain the old scar still gave out whenever he pressed it too hard. He was alive. Dean was alive. This was real, this was reality. Here and now, in the bunker, not back in some cold cellar. 

“I thought I wanted her.” Sam finally whispered, voice well and completely wreaked. “I...I thought I loved her. We had sex, in the dream thing, and after each time, she talked to me. Asked me questions, about American hunters. Whenever I stopped being willing to talk, we'd have sex again, until I was too fucked out to filter out what I was doing, what I was saying.” His breathing started to speed up again, but Dean pressed down hard on his hand, and the panic faded from Sam's body. “I didn't give her names or anything, but I...when I woke up, she was there. Sitting there, watching me. I came in my sleep, and she'd been watching me, manipulating the dream so she could get the answers she wanted.” Sam shivered, hard. “I....I didn't even...” He choked on another sob. “I didn't even think of you, the whole time I was out, that I was with her. I didn't even think of you once.” 

Sam lost the ability to speak, after that, disolving into tears as his body trembled with panic and guilt. Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Sam close, rubbing his back and letting Sam just sob into his chest. 

“Sammy,” Dean started once Sam's cries had quieted down enough for him to hear Dean, “You were under a spell. You were drugged. You can't blame yourself for what happened, man.” Dean pressed a kiss to Sam's temple, hand working in soothing circles over the expanse of his back. 

Sam shook harder under Dean's touch, though his tears finally started to slow. He pulled away enough to see the outline of Dean's face, back-lit from the light coming through the grate in his door from the hallway. “I thought you were dead.” He murmured softly. “I thought you were dead, and I let that women just....do whatever she wanted to me. I fucking enjoyed it. And I didn't even think of you once.....”

“Sam.” Dean said firmly. “You didn't let anything happen. That bitch messed with your senses and your mind. She forced you into it. Hell, she probably was using some mind mojo in the spell to keep you from thinking about me, the same way she kept you from thinking about how she was torturing you.” Dean cupped Sam's cheek softly, wiping away tears with his thumb. “She forced you into it, Sammy. So please, don't blame yourself, okay? Because I don't blame you. And no one else is gonna blame you. It wasn't. Your. Fault.”

Sam hiccuped, finally giving Dean a small nod of acceptance. “Okay.” He whispered. “Okay.” He leaned forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Dean's in a soft kiss. There was a faint taste of pie and beer left on Dean's lips, and Sam chased it, licking into Deans mouth expertly. Dean kissed him back, but slowly, following Sam's lead and letting his brother take the reins. They broke apart after a minute, breathing heavily, and suddenly the weight of the day hit Sam all at once. He was exhausted. 

Dean chuckled as Sam's eyes started to drift shut, and he sat up to kiss Sam's forehead, then rolled away, righting himself on the side of the bed. Sam's hand closed in a death grip around Dean's shirt.

“Don't leave.” Sam pleaded, desperation obvious in his voice.

Dean just chuckled. “Relax, not going anywhere.” He assured. “Just taking off my boots, that's all.” Sure enough, after Dean had kicked off his boots and tugged off Sam's own, he crawled back into bed next to Sam, pulling the covers over them both before tugging Sam back to his chest. 

“Promise you'll be here in the morning?” Sam asked, sleepy voice fearful and childlike in a way it never was during daylight. “I know with mom here we shouldn't, but I can't....I won't sleep without you here.”

Dean brushed his fingers through Sam's soft hair, kissing his lips reassuringly. “I'll be here.” He promised, and not a minute later, Sam drifted off to sleep.

Sam felt Dean's arms around him all night long.

He decided that was the best part.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos give me joy and comments give me life. Hope you all liked it! Let me know what you think below :) <3


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